Thursday, November 27, 2008
Archives: Sept. 2007
Org. Post: Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Einstein On Parade: Q. Chicken or Egg? A. Who cares!? What’s Zach Braff up to?
If you've read over my "blog" throughout the past year or so ...Then you know that my inspirations vary from time to time, subject to subject. Your general ebb and flow of day to day occurrences, characters and random (yet dare I say vital and/or relevant) ...Oo so relevant) observations.
What is one to do without internet?
My two month "blackout" of sorts by no means trumped the year of 2003. Also known as the "Great Hard-Drive Meltdown of '03" ...But regardless drove me to the point of insanity. Ok, so that's a bit melodramatic. Nuts? Bananas? Pluots? Pen to paper is fine. Typewriters still have their place. Let's be honest, though ...Doogie was onto something years ago.
What I'm trying to get to is this: When you're without the internet and have writer's block, feeling a bit low and at a loss ...You should read Parade Magazine. You know Parade, it can usually be found in the "meat" of your local Sunday newspaper. It's a hair shy of a tabloid (which to some is the news ...I'm not pointing (my Mother) fingers @ anyone). It's a real mood lifter (if not a bit of a brow furrower) and serves as a prime example that there's always a soul or two a bit worse-off than your own.
I've been known to treat myself here and there to a Sunday Chicago Tribune or perhaps the New York Times ...The Sunday Tribune is usually available on Saturdays ...Since I work on Sundays, I'll nab a Sunday copy on Saturday and live out my Norm Rockwell-inspired Sunday newspaper/coffee moment. Which ultimately throws me off and come Sunday I'm thinking it's Monday. Anyway, I'm being wordy.
So there I was, rifling through the meat of the Sunday Tribune, on a Saturday ...Coffee at hand, cigarette in tow ..."Ah, Parade ...Why not?" ...One page into this slim read ...Let the good feels and back-pats commence!
There I was hmming + hawing about my ebb + flow being disrupted and the inevitable "grand update" looming before I felt just in writing anything and somewhere someone is going about their day and then they're struck with some of life's greatest crossroads: "Do you think Tiger Woods named his daughter Sam because he was hoping for a boy?"
[The following is a fictional dramatization aside from the end, brought to you by an actual Parade reader]
Charles: "Hi Bob, how are things today? Can you believe the story about that guy who just passed away from inhaling the fumes from his bag of microwaved popcorn?"
Bob: [silence/staring off into space]
Charles: "Ah, Bob? Hey ho, Earth to Bobby!"
Bob: "Ooo sorry, Charles ...I was just thinking ...What explains Mandy Moore's failed relationships with so many guys—actors Zach Braff and Wilmer Valderrama, tennis ace Andy Roddick and disc jockey DJ AM?"
Here are just a few more examples:
"Q. As a fan of The Closer, I was distracted by Kyra Sedgwick's clownish red lipstick. I wrote to the show to complain—and, sure enough, she changed shades. Did viewers have a hand in that?
—Phyllis, New Jersey"
"Q. One of our favorite actors is Ernest Borgnine. What's he up to these days?
—Jerry and Linda, New Mexico"
"Q. Now that he has a hit sitcom, According to Jim, does Jim Belushi finally feel free of his late brother John's shadow?
—Kristin, New Jersey
"Q. I recently looked up Sylvester Stallone on the Internet and noticed that two of his daughters have the middle name Rose. Why?
—Stephanie, California"
"Q. A night at the movies rides on this bet: I say that Tony Blair is the longest-serving prime minister in British history. My brother-in-law says, "No way." Who wins?
—Dee, Rhode Island"
"Q. What has happened to the Rev. Robert Schuller Sr.? Why doesn't he deliver sermons on Sunday's Hour of Power TV program anymore?
—Susan, North Carolina"
"Q. Whatever happened to the cast of the 1970s series Welcome Back, Kotter?
—Sharon, New Jersey"
Thank you Parade, thank you.
____________________________
I'm at a coffee shop ...While typing the above, it started to rain ...hard. I have one last errand on my day-off agenda: grocery shopping. I thought it best to wait out the rain ...While doing so, a Mother and her two young daughters came into the coffee shop.
Mom: "We're just going to wait out the rain, girls"
Daughter: "Are we eating here?"
Mom: "Oo no! We'll just get a beverage"
Daughter: "What's a bev..beverage?"
[a few moments later]
Mom: "Now don't drink too much apple juice!"
Daughter: "But I wanna!"
Mom: "You normally don't drink juice this late."
...It was 5PM.
I bet she reads Parade ...Actually, I bet she reads the Chicago Tribunes' "Ask Amy" ...As for that, don't get me started.
Org. Post: Saturday, September 08, 2007
Thank You For Letting Me Bend Your Ear
My name is Amanda Jordyn ...Some of you (Yes, you) know me as Amanda, some of you (Yep, still you) know me as Jordyn ...A select few have come up with their own hybrids (AJ, AJ Phelpsy, A to the J, Manders, Manda, Jordy, J-[insert animal +/or currrency] ...Mandy).
Where was I? Ah yes, my name is Amanda Jordyn and I have addiction ...An addiction? Yes and it's spilling throughout my life (well, ok my coffee table, bookshelf, nightstand, bag, etc.) ...I like books. I like books ...a lot. I like books of various genres, various sizes, color, languages and lengths.
A funny thing happened to me on my way to the library, this morning ...Library books in tow, I no sooner made it out of the gate of my apartment building when I found myself smack-dab in the midst of a neighbor's yard sale ...En route to the library, I end up purchasing two books and a double-disc Nina Simone album (For the curious: Raymond Carver's "Where I'm Calling From," a tattered copy of John Updike's "Rabbit, Run" ...The Nina discs? The Tomato Collection, a very tough find). And all for under $5. Plus, while I was @ it I figured I make a new friend because hey, why not?
Treavor lives in the condo building next door and it was his yard sale that I browsed ...Sedaris, Burroughs, an abundance of Bette Midler CDs (And I noticed a few Her Space Holiday CDs ...Sure, why not?). He noticed the Nina Simone discs in my hand:
Treavor: "Oo my God, don't you love her?"
Me: "Yes! I can't believe you're parting with this."
Treavor: "I know, I know ...I had to special order it. Have you seen her live concert film? I saw it at the Gene Siskel Film Centre, last year ...I had to go out and buy it the next day!"
Me: "Oo! Unfortunately, I missed it ...To be honest, I really shouldn't be buying more books ...I'm actually on my way to the library to return a few."
Treavor: "Do you live around here?"
Me: "Yes, actually I live right next door."
Treavor: "Well, you have to borrow my copy of Nina's live concert ...I'll brb right back!"
...And that is how a copy of Nina Simone's "Live at Montreux" found it's way inside of my bag ...Along w/ two more books to stack on my coffee table and 2.5 hours of Nina Simone audio. Sigh. (I then renewed a couple of books at the library and checked out a new one: Lonely Planet's "Farsi Phrasebook" ...Hey, why not?).
I was actually going to write about the eclectic nature of my apartment ...My growing book addiction a large part of such ...But I'll cut to the chase and just show you "the creepy pillow," an amazing find, if I do say so myself (And I do).
And now for some b-sides, if you will ...Some of you have heard these stories, to some they will be new ...Left on the backburner in the midst of my ongoing get-my-barrings-back updating.
Title: "What Have I Done For Brown Today?"
A couple of weeks ago (or maybe it was a week ago ...They all bleed into one another) ...On a Monday (I know that for sure ...Actually, it was two weeks ago, yes), I was awaiting the arrival of a "very important package" (this handy dandy laptop) via UPS. It was supposed to arrive on either Monday +/or Tuesday. Both days I had to work 11AM-7PM. Aside from the flash-in-the-pan chance of catching the UPS man on my half hour lunch break, I feared I'd be playing a game of tag with UPS. (Oo, I live close to work ...I generally go home for lunch). I told my coworkers, that Monday "If the UPS man stops here, come find me. I need to talk w/ him" (My reason being that I wanted to see if I could have my "very important package" delivered at work).
Jump mid-afternoon, my coworker Joan comes downstairs and tells me "The UPS man is here but I had to haggle him to stay ...You better go catch him! He's out by his truck." (Montage: Pull off labcoat, wash hands, dip shoes, run upstairs).
I ran out to meet the UPS man, next to his truck ...There we stood, next to the truck (it's important that you know such a redundant detail) ...I explained to him the situation and he pleasantly (he really was pleasant ...I'm not being sarcastic) explained to me that I just need to write a note w/ my signature and pin it up on my building's door and they will deliver it -Hooray!
UPS Man: "Well, have a nice day" [extends hand]
Me: "You too. Thanks again" [shakes hand]
UPS Man: [Starts to walk by, leans in, sort of ..I swear]
Me: [HUGS UPS man]
I thought he was leaning in for a hug -In hindsight he was leaning to get past the truck ...I ran back into work, went back downstairs to resume feline medicating ...Which I had to stop abruptly for a few minutes of laughter ...Inner thoughts: "Amanda Jordyn, what did you do!? You HUGGED him!? What on Earth made you think he wanted to hug you in the first place!?
Next day: I left a note on my building's buzzer. I came home on my lunch break to not only find that my "very important package" had indeed arrived but that it was actually awaiting me at my apartment's front door. Later that day, at work the UPS man stopped by to make sure I had recieved my package safe + sound.
Let this be a lesson to you ...Hugging can help.
Title: Alton Brown Is Not Spider-Man
My Alton Brown (not to be confused with the Food Network personality but just as profficent when it comes to the genus of oncorhynchus gorbuscha ...er, salmon) ...Well, my Alton is a curious cat (as in odd) and under the assumption that he has Spider-Man like capabilities. A flat wall, void of any ledge or perch? Alton will attempt to jump straight up. What he sees? I haven't a clue.
He's a gangly sort ...Big bunny feet, long limps and ears that hopefully someday he'll grow into. He's also a silent cat ...Strange, I know but I rarely hear him utter even a meow.
Earlier this past week, Alton joined in w/ his siblings, whining for food. "He speaks!" I thought ...Great, so Primo has taught him a thing or two.
Thursday morning, I woke up to Primo, on top of me and Alton whining in the background ...I couldn't see Alton, as I wiped my eyes of sleep and assured both Alton + Primo that I was waking up, that I'd be feeding them soon.
Alton just kept whining + whining ...I sat up in bed, looked out into my living room and there I saw my Alton Brown ...Teetering on the outside window ledge, one foot dangling ...Unable to turn himself around or else he'd fall. Nightgown + all, heart in stomach ...I flew out of bed, across my living room ..."Don't move!" ...I threw open the window, grabbed him and pulled him back inside.
I then inspected my window's screen, which unbeknownist to me had had a tiny slit on the far upper right-hand side ...A slit that I assume Alton elborated upon and found his way out on the ledge. I generally keep the window, in the living, opened a couple of inches before I go bed ...I'm assuming Alton worked his magic with that as well.
After the intial adrenaline wore off ...I took it as a compliment that Alton didn't jump ...Silent, half-bunny and unable to scale walls ...He likes me, he really likes me.
_______________________________________
One last note:
In this week's Chicago Reader, I found a course catalog from Loyola University's Continuing Education program. On a whim, I leafed through it ...Head shaking, my sighs supressed ...I came across this:
[Writing + Communication Section]
"The Blogosphere + You:
Websites, blogs, podcasts and many other innovations have changed traditional media and opened up new channels for creativity and participation. Learn how to read the trends and make sense of the techno-jargon and buzzwords as you prepare to build your own blog!"
...Toss in their "Interpreting St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians" and you'll be on your way! If that doesn't work, they also offer a course entitled "So You Want To Be An Actor".
...And on that (last) note, I added a few new pictures to my "blogosphere".
Org. Post: Saturday, September 15, 2007
Turn It On: 1-800-FRENCH BREAD
Last night, I made a stop @ my local grocery (a sale on oatmeal -Oo my!) ...I stood in line behind a couple that might have been crazier about oatmeal than myself. Finally, I made it to the cashier. I paid for my goods and the cashier handed me my receipt:
Cashier: "Here's your receipt, Ms. Phelps ...[points to a 1-800 number printed on the receipt] ...And here is a 1-800 number you can call to take a short survey. If you complete the survey you win a free loaf of Jewel french bread!"
Amazing. I placed the receipt in my pocketbook and took my oatmeal home. I had a date with a steaming bowl of apples + cinnamon, in front of "Fire Walk With Me" (It's been an odd week ...So odd in fact that Lynch is making sense).
I woke up this morning, found my way into the kitchen ...4 pairs of eyes eagerly watching my every move ...Soon those eyes were nose deep in oceanfish + tuna (Mmm ...What exactly is oceanfish?]. Before long, I, myself was nose deep in a hot cup of coffee and the latest copy of the Chicago Reader (skimming an article about a "diverse" group of people who had their way with the closets of up and coming designers throughout Chicago ...I found it interesting that this "diverse" group all had a toe-hold within the fashion industry themselves and one man's wallet cost $180 ...The wallet wasn't pictured so I figured it was in his pocket]. "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" was on the radio. My bag was nearby and I need a pen for the Reader's crossword puzzle. Last night's Jewel receipt was sticking out of my pocketbook and I remembered the 1-800 ...I figured "Why not?," so I grabbed my cellphone and dialed up the number. I answered three questions by pressing 5 for "very" and 1 "not very" ...I was then given a code for my free loaf of Jewel french bread and instructions on how to give the code to the cashier during my next shopping trip. Great. That was ...anti-climatic.
________________________________________
This morning's "Sound Opinions" featured the Flaming Lips ...It was the first time in years that my stereo speakers played the Flaming Lips and I was reminded of those many trips out to Denny's with Lexi, so long ago. "Transmissions From The Satellite Heart," was a staple that summer ...Much like the Trivial Pursuit board that we brought along for our hours spent at Denny's.
"She don't use butter/she don't use cheese ...."
Remembering such times reminded me of the city I moved from. The city which I very rarely wax reminiscent about and usually make the distinction that I "moved from" and that I'm not "from" Midland, Michigan.
The nearest Denny's was in Saginaw, Michigan ...About 40 minutes away. Which lent itself to plenty of time for the 43:04 minutes of "Satellite Heart".
Explaining why we would drive the 40 minutes almost nightly for the iridescent glow of a bottomless cup of coffee and the disinterity-inducing Moons Over MyHammy ...Means explaining Midland itself. Something I'm not really apt to do but led me to do a quick Wikipedia search.
"Man, everyone's chewing the apple you've got in your eye ..."
The last census on Midland, Michigan was in 2000 ...Then the population was at 41,685. Lexi and I both moved two years later so that makes the census of 2002, 41, 683 ...at least.
I often refer to Midland as the "home of Dow Chemical," which is true ...Dow Chemical was founded in 1867. Fantastic. Remember that the next time you use Saran wrap ...Much like those that will never forget their limbs lost to napalm, in Vietnam (Oo yeah, Dow was the maker of both napalm + agent orange).
[Note: There was much debate about including that last bit ...I feel so crass. I just thought you should know].
Midland is the sister city of Handa, Aichi Japan ...Who knew?
Midland is 93.38% white, 1.82% African-American and 0.06% Pacific-Islander. 8.8% of which fall below the poverty line (It should be noted that Midland predominantly builds their lower-income housing outside of the city limits).
"You can be my head/because I can't afford a new one ..."
There are 80 parks ...Nestled amongst the numerous attractions in Midland city proper. These attractions include: The Alden B. Dow House, Dow Gardens, Dow Chemical Company (itself), Dow Corning, the Herbert Henry Dow House, the Grace A. Dow Library ...See a theme? How could I not remember the Tridge ...A three-way footbridge, constructed in 1981. Three-way bridge ...Tridge, get it? Fun for the whole family ...And beautiful views of both the Tibbawassee and the Chippawa Rivers ...Both of which cross paths with the Dow Chemical Dam ...Which doesn't need further explanation (three-headed fish ...I'm not saying anything).
I was amused by the list of Midland's "famous," which include: Robert Jarvik (inventor of the Jarvik-7 artificial heart and can now be seen peddling Pfzer's Liptor on TV), Cathy Guisewite (best known for her Cathy comic strip and embittered, 40-some year old women with relationship/work crisis-es everywhere), Earl Warwick (inventor of Silly Putty ...which, upon further research was originally called both "nutty putty" and "potty putty" and served as an attempt to replace rubber in World War II) and Steve Shelley (drummer for Sonic Youth ...Whose parents actually live a couple of blocks from my Mother. I can still recall a super-fan who kept camp on the sidewalk, in front of the Shelley's ...A weathered copy of "Daydream Nation, in hand ...Rain or shine).
All of which brings us back (in no way whatsoever) to Denny's, which brings us back (in no way whatsoever)to the Flaming Lips, which brings us back (in no way whatsoever)to this morning's "Sound Opinions.
"I don't care if it rains or freezes ..."
_____________________________________________
My coffee is cold.
Einstein On Parade: Q. Chicken or Egg? A. Who cares!? What’s Zach Braff up to?
If you've read over my "blog" throughout the past year or so ...Then you know that my inspirations vary from time to time, subject to subject. Your general ebb and flow of day to day occurrences, characters and random (yet dare I say vital and/or relevant) ...Oo so relevant) observations.
What is one to do without internet?
My two month "blackout" of sorts by no means trumped the year of 2003. Also known as the "Great Hard-Drive Meltdown of '03" ...But regardless drove me to the point of insanity. Ok, so that's a bit melodramatic. Nuts? Bananas? Pluots? Pen to paper is fine. Typewriters still have their place. Let's be honest, though ...Doogie was onto something years ago.
What I'm trying to get to is this: When you're without the internet and have writer's block, feeling a bit low and at a loss ...You should read Parade Magazine. You know Parade, it can usually be found in the "meat" of your local Sunday newspaper. It's a hair shy of a tabloid (which to some is the news ...I'm not pointing (my Mother) fingers @ anyone). It's a real mood lifter (if not a bit of a brow furrower) and serves as a prime example that there's always a soul or two a bit worse-off than your own.
I've been known to treat myself here and there to a Sunday Chicago Tribune or perhaps the New York Times ...The Sunday Tribune is usually available on Saturdays ...Since I work on Sundays, I'll nab a Sunday copy on Saturday and live out my Norm Rockwell-inspired Sunday newspaper/coffee moment. Which ultimately throws me off and come Sunday I'm thinking it's Monday. Anyway, I'm being wordy.
So there I was, rifling through the meat of the Sunday Tribune, on a Saturday ...Coffee at hand, cigarette in tow ..."Ah, Parade ...Why not?" ...One page into this slim read ...Let the good feels and back-pats commence!
There I was hmming + hawing about my ebb + flow being disrupted and the inevitable "grand update" looming before I felt just in writing anything and somewhere someone is going about their day and then they're struck with some of life's greatest crossroads: "Do you think Tiger Woods named his daughter Sam because he was hoping for a boy?"
[The following is a fictional dramatization aside from the end, brought to you by an actual Parade reader]
Charles: "Hi Bob, how are things today? Can you believe the story about that guy who just passed away from inhaling the fumes from his bag of microwaved popcorn?"
Bob: [silence/staring off into space]
Charles: "Ah, Bob? Hey ho, Earth to Bobby!"
Bob: "Ooo sorry, Charles ...I was just thinking ...What explains Mandy Moore's failed relationships with so many guys—actors Zach Braff and Wilmer Valderrama, tennis ace Andy Roddick and disc jockey DJ AM?"
Here are just a few more examples:
"Q. As a fan of The Closer, I was distracted by Kyra Sedgwick's clownish red lipstick. I wrote to the show to complain—and, sure enough, she changed shades. Did viewers have a hand in that?
—Phyllis, New Jersey"
"Q. One of our favorite actors is Ernest Borgnine. What's he up to these days?
—Jerry and Linda, New Mexico"
"Q. Now that he has a hit sitcom, According to Jim, does Jim Belushi finally feel free of his late brother John's shadow?
—Kristin, New Jersey
"Q. I recently looked up Sylvester Stallone on the Internet and noticed that two of his daughters have the middle name Rose. Why?
—Stephanie, California"
"Q. A night at the movies rides on this bet: I say that Tony Blair is the longest-serving prime minister in British history. My brother-in-law says, "No way." Who wins?
—Dee, Rhode Island"
"Q. What has happened to the Rev. Robert Schuller Sr.? Why doesn't he deliver sermons on Sunday's Hour of Power TV program anymore?
—Susan, North Carolina"
"Q. Whatever happened to the cast of the 1970s series Welcome Back, Kotter?
—Sharon, New Jersey"
Thank you Parade, thank you.
____________________________
I'm at a coffee shop ...While typing the above, it started to rain ...hard. I have one last errand on my day-off agenda: grocery shopping. I thought it best to wait out the rain ...While doing so, a Mother and her two young daughters came into the coffee shop.
Mom: "We're just going to wait out the rain, girls"
Daughter: "Are we eating here?"
Mom: "Oo no! We'll just get a beverage"
Daughter: "What's a bev..beverage?"
[a few moments later]
Mom: "Now don't drink too much apple juice!"
Daughter: "But I wanna!"
Mom: "You normally don't drink juice this late."
...It was 5PM.
I bet she reads Parade ...Actually, I bet she reads the Chicago Tribunes' "Ask Amy" ...As for that, don't get me started.
Org. Post: Saturday, September 08, 2007
Thank You For Letting Me Bend Your Ear
My name is Amanda Jordyn ...Some of you (Yes, you) know me as Amanda, some of you (Yep, still you) know me as Jordyn ...A select few have come up with their own hybrids (AJ, AJ Phelpsy, A to the J, Manders, Manda, Jordy, J-[insert animal +/or currrency] ...Mandy).
Where was I? Ah yes, my name is Amanda Jordyn and I have addiction ...An addiction? Yes and it's spilling throughout my life (well, ok my coffee table, bookshelf, nightstand, bag, etc.) ...I like books. I like books ...a lot. I like books of various genres, various sizes, color, languages and lengths.
A funny thing happened to me on my way to the library, this morning ...Library books in tow, I no sooner made it out of the gate of my apartment building when I found myself smack-dab in the midst of a neighbor's yard sale ...En route to the library, I end up purchasing two books and a double-disc Nina Simone album (For the curious: Raymond Carver's "Where I'm Calling From," a tattered copy of John Updike's "Rabbit, Run" ...The Nina discs? The Tomato Collection, a very tough find). And all for under $5. Plus, while I was @ it I figured I make a new friend because hey, why not?
Treavor lives in the condo building next door and it was his yard sale that I browsed ...Sedaris, Burroughs, an abundance of Bette Midler CDs (And I noticed a few Her Space Holiday CDs ...Sure, why not?). He noticed the Nina Simone discs in my hand:
Treavor: "Oo my God, don't you love her?"
Me: "Yes! I can't believe you're parting with this."
Treavor: "I know, I know ...I had to special order it. Have you seen her live concert film? I saw it at the Gene Siskel Film Centre, last year ...I had to go out and buy it the next day!"
Me: "Oo! Unfortunately, I missed it ...To be honest, I really shouldn't be buying more books ...I'm actually on my way to the library to return a few."
Treavor: "Do you live around here?"
Me: "Yes, actually I live right next door."
Treavor: "Well, you have to borrow my copy of Nina's live concert ...I'll brb right back!"
...And that is how a copy of Nina Simone's "Live at Montreux" found it's way inside of my bag ...Along w/ two more books to stack on my coffee table and 2.5 hours of Nina Simone audio. Sigh. (I then renewed a couple of books at the library and checked out a new one: Lonely Planet's "Farsi Phrasebook" ...Hey, why not?).
I was actually going to write about the eclectic nature of my apartment ...My growing book addiction a large part of such ...But I'll cut to the chase and just show you "the creepy pillow," an amazing find, if I do say so myself (And I do).
And now for some b-sides, if you will ...Some of you have heard these stories, to some they will be new ...Left on the backburner in the midst of my ongoing get-my-barrings-back updating.
Title: "What Have I Done For Brown Today?"
A couple of weeks ago (or maybe it was a week ago ...They all bleed into one another) ...On a Monday (I know that for sure ...Actually, it was two weeks ago, yes), I was awaiting the arrival of a "very important package" (this handy dandy laptop) via UPS. It was supposed to arrive on either Monday +/or Tuesday. Both days I had to work 11AM-7PM. Aside from the flash-in-the-pan chance of catching the UPS man on my half hour lunch break, I feared I'd be playing a game of tag with UPS. (Oo, I live close to work ...I generally go home for lunch). I told my coworkers, that Monday "If the UPS man stops here, come find me. I need to talk w/ him" (My reason being that I wanted to see if I could have my "very important package" delivered at work).
Jump mid-afternoon, my coworker Joan comes downstairs and tells me "The UPS man is here but I had to haggle him to stay ...You better go catch him! He's out by his truck." (Montage: Pull off labcoat, wash hands, dip shoes, run upstairs).
I ran out to meet the UPS man, next to his truck ...There we stood, next to the truck (it's important that you know such a redundant detail) ...I explained to him the situation and he pleasantly (he really was pleasant ...I'm not being sarcastic) explained to me that I just need to write a note w/ my signature and pin it up on my building's door and they will deliver it -Hooray!
UPS Man: "Well, have a nice day" [extends hand]
Me: "You too. Thanks again" [shakes hand]
UPS Man: [Starts to walk by, leans in, sort of ..I swear]
Me: [HUGS UPS man]
I thought he was leaning in for a hug -In hindsight he was leaning to get past the truck ...I ran back into work, went back downstairs to resume feline medicating ...Which I had to stop abruptly for a few minutes of laughter ...Inner thoughts: "Amanda Jordyn, what did you do!? You HUGGED him!? What on Earth made you think he wanted to hug you in the first place!?
Next day: I left a note on my building's buzzer. I came home on my lunch break to not only find that my "very important package" had indeed arrived but that it was actually awaiting me at my apartment's front door. Later that day, at work the UPS man stopped by to make sure I had recieved my package safe + sound.
Let this be a lesson to you ...Hugging can help.
Title: Alton Brown Is Not Spider-Man
My Alton Brown (not to be confused with the Food Network personality but just as profficent when it comes to the genus of oncorhynchus gorbuscha ...er, salmon) ...Well, my Alton is a curious cat (as in odd) and under the assumption that he has Spider-Man like capabilities. A flat wall, void of any ledge or perch? Alton will attempt to jump straight up. What he sees? I haven't a clue.
He's a gangly sort ...Big bunny feet, long limps and ears that hopefully someday he'll grow into. He's also a silent cat ...Strange, I know but I rarely hear him utter even a meow.
Earlier this past week, Alton joined in w/ his siblings, whining for food. "He speaks!" I thought ...Great, so Primo has taught him a thing or two.
Thursday morning, I woke up to Primo, on top of me and Alton whining in the background ...I couldn't see Alton, as I wiped my eyes of sleep and assured both Alton + Primo that I was waking up, that I'd be feeding them soon.
Alton just kept whining + whining ...I sat up in bed, looked out into my living room and there I saw my Alton Brown ...Teetering on the outside window ledge, one foot dangling ...Unable to turn himself around or else he'd fall. Nightgown + all, heart in stomach ...I flew out of bed, across my living room ..."Don't move!" ...I threw open the window, grabbed him and pulled him back inside.
I then inspected my window's screen, which unbeknownist to me had had a tiny slit on the far upper right-hand side ...A slit that I assume Alton elborated upon and found his way out on the ledge. I generally keep the window, in the living, opened a couple of inches before I go bed ...I'm assuming Alton worked his magic with that as well.
After the intial adrenaline wore off ...I took it as a compliment that Alton didn't jump ...Silent, half-bunny and unable to scale walls ...He likes me, he really likes me.
_______________________________________
One last note:
In this week's Chicago Reader, I found a course catalog from Loyola University's Continuing Education program. On a whim, I leafed through it ...Head shaking, my sighs supressed ...I came across this:
[Writing + Communication Section]
"The Blogosphere + You:
Websites, blogs, podcasts and many other innovations have changed traditional media and opened up new channels for creativity and participation. Learn how to read the trends and make sense of the techno-jargon and buzzwords as you prepare to build your own blog!"
...Toss in their "Interpreting St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians" and you'll be on your way! If that doesn't work, they also offer a course entitled "So You Want To Be An Actor".
...And on that (last) note, I added a few new pictures to my "blogosphere".
Org. Post: Saturday, September 15, 2007
Turn It On: 1-800-FRENCH BREAD
Last night, I made a stop @ my local grocery (a sale on oatmeal -Oo my!) ...I stood in line behind a couple that might have been crazier about oatmeal than myself. Finally, I made it to the cashier. I paid for my goods and the cashier handed me my receipt:
Cashier: "Here's your receipt, Ms. Phelps ...[points to a 1-800 number printed on the receipt] ...And here is a 1-800 number you can call to take a short survey. If you complete the survey you win a free loaf of Jewel french bread!"
Amazing. I placed the receipt in my pocketbook and took my oatmeal home. I had a date with a steaming bowl of apples + cinnamon, in front of "Fire Walk With Me" (It's been an odd week ...So odd in fact that Lynch is making sense).
I woke up this morning, found my way into the kitchen ...4 pairs of eyes eagerly watching my every move ...Soon those eyes were nose deep in oceanfish + tuna (Mmm ...What exactly is oceanfish?]. Before long, I, myself was nose deep in a hot cup of coffee and the latest copy of the Chicago Reader (skimming an article about a "diverse" group of people who had their way with the closets of up and coming designers throughout Chicago ...I found it interesting that this "diverse" group all had a toe-hold within the fashion industry themselves and one man's wallet cost $180 ...The wallet wasn't pictured so I figured it was in his pocket]. "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" was on the radio. My bag was nearby and I need a pen for the Reader's crossword puzzle. Last night's Jewel receipt was sticking out of my pocketbook and I remembered the 1-800 ...I figured "Why not?," so I grabbed my cellphone and dialed up the number. I answered three questions by pressing 5 for "very" and 1 "not very" ...I was then given a code for my free loaf of Jewel french bread and instructions on how to give the code to the cashier during my next shopping trip. Great. That was ...anti-climatic.
________________________________________
This morning's "Sound Opinions" featured the Flaming Lips ...It was the first time in years that my stereo speakers played the Flaming Lips and I was reminded of those many trips out to Denny's with Lexi, so long ago. "Transmissions From The Satellite Heart," was a staple that summer ...Much like the Trivial Pursuit board that we brought along for our hours spent at Denny's.
"She don't use butter/she don't use cheese ...."
Remembering such times reminded me of the city I moved from. The city which I very rarely wax reminiscent about and usually make the distinction that I "moved from" and that I'm not "from" Midland, Michigan.
The nearest Denny's was in Saginaw, Michigan ...About 40 minutes away. Which lent itself to plenty of time for the 43:04 minutes of "Satellite Heart".
Explaining why we would drive the 40 minutes almost nightly for the iridescent glow of a bottomless cup of coffee and the disinterity-inducing Moons Over MyHammy ...Means explaining Midland itself. Something I'm not really apt to do but led me to do a quick Wikipedia search.
"Man, everyone's chewing the apple you've got in your eye ..."
The last census on Midland, Michigan was in 2000 ...Then the population was at 41,685. Lexi and I both moved two years later so that makes the census of 2002, 41, 683 ...at least.
I often refer to Midland as the "home of Dow Chemical," which is true ...Dow Chemical was founded in 1867. Fantastic. Remember that the next time you use Saran wrap ...Much like those that will never forget their limbs lost to napalm, in Vietnam (Oo yeah, Dow was the maker of both napalm + agent orange).
[Note: There was much debate about including that last bit ...I feel so crass. I just thought you should know].
Midland is the sister city of Handa, Aichi Japan ...Who knew?
Midland is 93.38% white, 1.82% African-American and 0.06% Pacific-Islander. 8.8% of which fall below the poverty line (It should be noted that Midland predominantly builds their lower-income housing outside of the city limits).
"You can be my head/because I can't afford a new one ..."
There are 80 parks ...Nestled amongst the numerous attractions in Midland city proper. These attractions include: The Alden B. Dow House, Dow Gardens, Dow Chemical Company (itself), Dow Corning, the Herbert Henry Dow House, the Grace A. Dow Library ...See a theme? How could I not remember the Tridge ...A three-way footbridge, constructed in 1981. Three-way bridge ...Tridge, get it? Fun for the whole family ...And beautiful views of both the Tibbawassee and the Chippawa Rivers ...Both of which cross paths with the Dow Chemical Dam ...Which doesn't need further explanation (three-headed fish ...I'm not saying anything).
I was amused by the list of Midland's "famous," which include: Robert Jarvik (inventor of the Jarvik-7 artificial heart and can now be seen peddling Pfzer's Liptor on TV), Cathy Guisewite (best known for her Cathy comic strip and embittered, 40-some year old women with relationship/work crisis-es everywhere), Earl Warwick (inventor of Silly Putty ...which, upon further research was originally called both "nutty putty" and "potty putty" and served as an attempt to replace rubber in World War II) and Steve Shelley (drummer for Sonic Youth ...Whose parents actually live a couple of blocks from my Mother. I can still recall a super-fan who kept camp on the sidewalk, in front of the Shelley's ...A weathered copy of "Daydream Nation, in hand ...Rain or shine).
All of which brings us back (in no way whatsoever) to Denny's, which brings us back (in no way whatsoever)to the Flaming Lips, which brings us back (in no way whatsoever)to this morning's "Sound Opinions.
"I don't care if it rains or freezes ..."
_____________________________________________
My coffee is cold.
Archives: June 2007-August 2007
Org. Post: Tuesday, June 05 2007
Stuart Kills Bugs: A Love Story
[10AM, outside of my apartment's door, hallway ...I was running across the street for coffee before getting ready for work]
Me: [locking door]
Billy Preston Exterminator: [down the hallway, spray tank in hand] "I'm in love!"
Me: "Good morning!"
BPE: "I'm in love, I'm in love! I ...am ...in ....LOVE!"
Me: " ...Congrats! ...??"
BPE: "Yeah, but you haven't asked me with who?"
Me: " ...Who?"
BPE: [points @ me] "You!"
Me: "Aww"
BPE: "I'm in love, I'm in loooove! Mmm mmm mmm, damn!"
Me: [walking towards elevator] "I can't handle all this love before my coffee! Have a great day!"
BPE: "Ooo, I will now. My great day started the moment I saw you!"
Me: [elevator!]
[10 mins. later, returning w/ coffee in hand ...Meredith (front desk) and BPE, let me in)
BPE: "Look at her! I love that girl! But break my heart, she only got one cup of coffee!"
Meredith: [laughing/eye rolling]
_______________
By the way, my Billy Preston Exterminator's real name is [drumroll]: STUART!
Org. Post: Thursday, June 21, 2007
The World Is Full Of Quacks: I'm Moving
For those of you who don't know ...I'm moving. No, no not from Chicago ...A new apartment.
I fear the time has come for me to part ways with the address I've had for the past 5 yrs. That's right, the reigning (bum-appointed) "Princess of Granville," is stepping down.
For the past week or so I've been meaning to write a lovely, heartfelt and dare I say awe-inspiring (cue "Chariots of Fire") farewell piece ...Something to signify the end of this chapter in my life and the beginning of the next. I thought of when I first moved here ...My first shoebox studio ("You mean to tell me that the kitchen is in the wall!?") or when I moved up a few floors to my first 1 bedroom ("Wait, I have a kitchen!?"). The additions along the way (Lola had to move over for Primo who had to move over for Princess Milo ...And how unbeknownst to them they will all be moving over again for Alton Brown) ...The people, the sounds, the days when I could tell the time according to the streetlights, the smell of coffee wafting in from the coffee shop across the street. My corner store (Buying something for $7? "That will be seven hundred") , my Winnie (checkout lady @ the grocery), my CTA Don Juan, my Conchita @ the Currency Exchange, my Meredith @ the front desk (who turned pale and welled up with tears when I finally broke it to her I was leaving), my Billy Preston Exterminator aka Stuart (who broke up with me when he found out I was moving ...I think he was just hiding his pain), my Regina @ CVS ...All of the characters that played a role in my life for the past 5 yrs.
I wanted to write something to signify that this era is closing ...But then a duck came into my life and such cepia-washed memories were sent to the scrappings.
A duck?! What!?
Let me tell you a little something about "departure" letters ...I've never seen one but from what I gather they are generally (or rather allegedly) given to tenants who are moving out. I hear that they are three pages long and chock-full of useful information like: We're going to show your apartment to prospective renters, your apartment will be replastered before you move, you must vacate the premises by Noon on June 30th.
Since I never recieved such a letter, I was completely unaware of the above ...So please take a moment to imagine my shock when I found out that:
A. My apartment had been showed (or as it was put "Your cats showed very well")
B. My apartment has already been rented
C. That the "plaster guys" are coming to replaster tomorrow (I believe it went something like this: "You mean all of my stuff will be covered with plaster?" Reply? "Yes")
D. That I indeed must be moved out by Noon -next Saturday.
Needless to say I wasn't all that happy.
Earlier today, shortly before leaving for work, I opted to meet with the operations manager of my building and ask if we could possibly reschedule this replastering business closer to my actual move-out day. Surprisingly that was ok ...I then pressed about this supposed "departure" letter and somehow/someway the person who was in charge of sending me such notification was completely clueless that I was even moving out. Which I take as a safe assumption that I'm not going crazy (I rifled through every scrap of paper I have in an attempt to find such a letter ...I found nothing) and that I indeed never received such.
That's when my operations manager reached behind his desk and handed me a duck ...I'm serious. A yellow plush duck.
Operations Manager: "Here you can have the duck as an apology for the whole letter mix up"
Me: "Thanks?"
I then took said duck in the palm of my hand and exited the office with a puzzled look and my mouth slightly agape ...I stepped into the elevator towards my floor, the whole walking up the hallway is a bit of a blur but somehow I found myself sitting @ my desk, starring @ this duck ...And thinking: A duck, I live here for 5 yrs. and I get a duck. You come into my apartment without notifying me of your comings or goings with my cats, with my stuff ...You bring strangers into my apartment who probably were petting my cats and looking at my stuff ...You nonchalantly tell me that the "plasters guys" will be coming over regardless if I am home or not ...You tell me that I must be moved out of my apartment by Noon on the 30th -the very day that the woman who lives in my new apartment is moving out and that the only freight elevator time slot open is 8AM ...You go against a handful of renters' rights and then ...THEN ...You hand me a duck.
I honestly couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
So goodbye Granville, goodbye building ...I'm taking Mr. Quack and I'm leaving ...And if by chance the name of said building every comes up in conversation or I overhear someone wondering "Oo I was thinking of calling up [insert my building's name] for a showing," I will casually say: "Let me tell you about my duck ... "
Org. Post: Monday, July 30, 2007
Release Your Frown: Have You Seen Me Lately?
Greetings!
Gee, it's been awhile ...You look great! Did you lose some weight? Is that a new fedora?
Me? Oo, I'm good ...Doing a-ok. I'm a bit pressed for time but I thought I'd type a quick update. I'm such a lapsed-blogger. I fully intend on updating more often and more along the lines of my former entries ...But time, Oo time, I'm pressed.
Apartment? Love it!
My move? Please place finger to lips (sideways), move up and down.
Alton? (new cat) He's great ...Big webbed bunny feet and I think he's part platypus (I'm awaiting test results).
I hope to post photos soon. Ooo the stories I've collected over the past month.
Until then ...
Org. Post: Friday, August 31, 2007
A Soft Semi-Return
[Open with present-day]
I wrote the following, last night (Thursday) …In hopes of posting today @ a nearby coffee shop (Oo wireless, you had me @ free). So here I am @ that nearby coffee shop. There's a somewhat medieval sign next to my head that reads "Stone Soup," hmm …I'm not really sure what to think of that but then again such things are probably best without much thought. Which brings me to what I originally wrote, last night -Ha! Take that self! …I started out explaining my move, 2 mths ago …But now in the light of day, coffee coursing throughout my veins …I've decided to switch things up a bit and end with the torrid tale that has become known as my move. I figured this would work best for those who might find themselves thinking "I thought she was done telling this story …". So instead, I'll flip things around and start w/ the end and end with the beginning. Ready?
[Thursday night]
Well, lookie me -I'm on your screen! Hi. It's me, again. What's it been …2 mths? I came back as soon as I could. I apologize for such blatant tardiness.
I'm actually typing this late Thursday night -A few minutes shy of Friday. After I caught myself contemplating such things as just how many threads make up my kitchen rug and/or the process of water purification through osmosis (the diffusion of a solvent through a semipermeable membrane from a dilute to a more concentrated solution. Thanks Webster). Plus, I thought it best that I save my Dictionary of Mathematic Terms for a later (rainier) day …I thought I'd check out if MS Word still holds that certain kind of charm that used to amuse me so.
Ah, the begrudgingly tedious chore that is updating …Take no offense, it's not you …I've been living with such an update looming about my brain for 2 mths now …Where to begin. Those of you who have been in contact with me over the past couple of months (which I affectionately refer to as "shit storm" or the appended "It was the worst of times …It was the best of times …For optimism's sake, the latter) feel free to take a trip down memory lane with me …For those who I've lost contact with along the way, you look taller, you look thinner -Oo who am I kidding, you're fabulous and I hope you enjoy. (Did I mention it's almost Midnight?)
[Cut to the original end]
Things have been good. Busy, hectic, a downplay of stress but good nonetheless. I'm in love with my apartment and if it wasn't for all the black + blue, I'd still be pinching myself every morning since my move @ the thought that this is actually my apartment. I get to wake up here everyday …It's the apartment I wished I had moved into 5 yrs ago but that I can in turn can now appreciate to the fullest having lived elsewhere.
Aside from the various new sights, sounds and surroundings in my life …There's also been a new addition to my feline population. A week after my move, Alton Brown (the cat) came home …With his alien-good looks, bunny-sized feet and complete lack of coordination …Alton has become one of the brood and has aided in my ongoing fear of becoming a cat lady …You know the type. Trust me, I'm fighting it tooth and nail …Alton's the limit, my cut off point. I like him, he's sort of in love with me -It works. In my defense, with Lola's anti-social personality, I really only have three cats. Then again, with Primo's incessant need for attention and validation, he's like having 2 cats …So maybe I really have 5 cats -Crap.
I made full-time @ work, finally and now with my commute literally 1 minute away and the added bonus of having lunch @ home …It's working out alright. Though what job is without an amount of stress? No really, I'm asking …A mime, perhaps? That person who turns the crank @ a bingo parlor? Vanna White? (Yes, I'm reaching).
I'll be copy/pasting this later on this morning/afternoon from a nearby coffee shop that offers free wireless …Much like the local library but with coffee. You see my point? (Coffee).
My birthday is this Saturday ..In turn, my Father surprised me with a laptop. It really was a surprise given that my Father and I speak 3x a year and we haven't seen each other in 2. I'm beyond thankful and this document has been keeping me company as I upload my complete iTunes library off of my back-up cds …Tedious, yes.
This will be my first actual saved document on my yet unnamed laptop (Actually, I think I inadvertently named it Amanda Jordyn's Computer …Ah, the vanity).
In a few months time I'm hoping to have internet within my apartment …So until then, I'll be hopping on the caffeinated free wireless bandwagon …A craze that has fortunately hit my neighborhood full fledged.
I'm on back-up disc 28 out 30 and I only backed up to the T section …Which means the rest I'll have to pull off of my old computer (which is another story within itself) with my gig stick …Yes, gig stick. Try saying that casually.
Maybe I'll stop after 28, tonight …And reread this with coffee @ hand, come morning …And completely throw it to scrap and rewrite something more up-tempo and full of pep.
[Cut to the original beginning]
My move …The best way to describe my move on July 1st would be if you placed your finger to your lips (go ahead) and in a fast-paced motion moved said finger up + down. Nuts. Then again, does moving spare anyone? A quick rundown (because Lord knows I've had to tell this story countless of times) …My dear friends Lisa + Paul enlisted themselves to help me move (In my defense, I had helped them with their own move back in April) …I spent the eve of my move sorting through nearly 5 yrs of life, pulling a one nighter as I slowly debated the perks of stealing a shopping cart and wandering aimlessly throughout the downtown area, asking strangers if they know the alternative name for a one humped camel? (Answer: dromedary …you're welcome). Morning soon arrived, Lisa + I met up @ the train stop and later a bus towards the UHAUL garage …Patting one another on the back as we sipped our coffee, so on top of things …Sun streaming across our beaming faces, time on our side (this is the good part of the story, let me enjoy it). We picked up our UHAUL, which we affectionately christened "Peppy" and we were on our way. We stoped by my new apartment, met up with the former tenant as she bid her own farewell, picked up my new set of keys and then stopped off to pick up Lisa's husband Paul …Soon we were @ my old apartment ("Ground Zero," if you will) …I ran upstairs (by way of elevator) and started sorting just how to go about all of this. A handful of minutes later, Lisa came walking up the hallway …Face reddening, eyes slightly glassy:
Me: "What's wrong, sweet pea?"
Lisa: "The ..truck won't start"
Me: "Oh! Well that's ok!"
(Later on, Lisa would admit to me that she wasn't sure I heard her correctly seeing as I took such news a bit too well. The truth is, it was within that moment that I "went away" and pure adrenaline is to blame for the rest of the day …I just kept thinking "Hey, it's not rainy! Do you know the alternative name for a one humped camel?").
My former building ("The building of which we will not speak of …ever …again) works on an elevator-time rental and my minutes were ticking away. I continued to pack, while Lisa haggled with the UHAUL customer service. They couldn't rent us a new truck so instead they got the brainiac scheme to pack the broken down "Peppy" and then they'd had a tow truck to tow it to my new apartment. Tick-tock, we were growing desperate. Even more so by the group of maintence men that were lined up outside of my (opened) apartment door, awaiting my vacation to start revamping the place. There was the carpet guy, who had himself a seat across the hall …Watching me furiously running about, throwing things into boxes, into bags ..sipping his coffee and offering priceless advice, such as:
Carpet Guy: "You should have moved the cats first …"
Me: "I'm a vet assistant, sir"
Carpet Guy: "Is that so?
Me: "That is so …sir"
A slew of hijinks ensued:
-Did I mention that my building manager wanted me out by Noon? I had the elevator from 10AM-Noon. Though by law I until Midnight to move out. The law meant very little to these people and I was determined to get out. The UHAUL breakdown threw a wrench into our plans and well, that meant very little to these people too. (Again, I'm refering to the guy who gave me that stuffed duck …Remember that? Yeah, that kooky guy. A real chuckle.
-Duck-Man found his way in the midst of my nightmare and said:
Duck-Man: "Amanda, your elevator time is almost up and well …those stairs are going to be hard."
Me: "Ah yea, I'm getting out."
-At one point the building stopped the elevator with Paul still in it …To which Lisa had to rundown to the front desk and demand they turn it back on.
-Every time I left my place to move things down to the truck, I was convinced that the maintence vultures outside of my door were going to go in. My three cats were still in the apartment -horrified.
-Danger Mike finally showed up and proved to be not only a bonus vehicle and some much needed comic relief but an overall kick in the rear that we all needed.
Hours later, we finally cleared out my apartment …I stopped by Duck-Man's office to drop off my old set of keys and sign out my lease. I stepped into his office and immediately noticed something quite familiar. I sat down across from his desk in a chair that my ex and I had thrown out well over a year ago. Lovely. I gave him the keys and signed my name on the dotted line.
Duck-Man: "Amanda, see that jar of candy over there …on the bookshelf? That's for you! (complete with pointing @ me).
I was a bit numb @ this point so I grabbed the candy and walked out of a building I had lived in for nearly 5 yrs., my first in Chicago. Needless to say, I wasn't in much of a sentimental mood.
Paul + Danger Mike awaited the tow truck to show up. Lisa + I packed up my cats a few odds n ends that would fit in her hatchback and headed off to my new place. We park out front and start getting things around. Lola was near comatose. She really had me worried …She was actually handable which immediately gave cause for alarm. Pupils dilated, drooling on herself and refusing to unfold from a somewhat fetal position. Primo was ok, panting but ok. Princess Milo didn't really realized we moved until @ least the beginning of August.
I reached into my bag and felt for my keys. I'll save any suspense and just tell you that my new keys weren't there. In fact, they weren't anywhere and to this day have yet to show themselves. Panic: Phase II soon followed. Bags were rifled through, calls were made, steps were retraced. Nothing. I've never truly lost my keys, we were always close and on decent terms …so image my shock. I called my building manager (who does not live on-site ) and he promised keys the following Monday (I moved on a Saturday) and that he could have someone let me into the main doors but I'd have to keep everything unlocked until Monday …And Oo yes, each key (3 in total, including the mail key) would cost me almost $100. Great.
We started moving things in …A couple of sweaty hours later (and not in any sexy and/or refreshed way), I was in my new apartment. Oo, almost forgot, my new place is without AC and mid-move I busted a couple of blades off of my ceiling fan, rendering it useless (a Home Depot trip the next day would fix this problem) …But I was in. I thanked Danger Mike + he was off. Starving, Paul, Lisa + I were debating where to eat. We thought about Thai but then Lisa pointed out:
Lisa: "Wait, let's go to the Chinese place …They have wine."
Good point. Chinese it was …and due to the day's events one of the best meals I've ever had.
Within a few days time (and due to my nature) I was unpacked …And that's where the story should start. But …I should mention Panic: Phase III. The next night, intent on washing everything I own, I was running downstairs to the basement laundry room @ 2AM to switch a load of wash into the dryer …I heard the click of my apartment door behind me. Locked. No keys. I had had enough sense and forethought to slip my cellphone into my pocket …With trembling hands I dialed Dave and unfortunately woke him up. A trip from Dave and a locksmith later, I was back in my apartment by 330AM.
And to think there are screenwriters galore throughout L.A. and Tim Allen's wavering career, both of which could benefit from such a tale.
So that's that. Now you know and we're on the same page. Excuse me for a moment, I've forgotten my mantra.
Ah ok. And I'm back.
[Cut to present-day]
So there you have it. Sure, I'm a bit rusty …Not to mention I miss the days where I could smoke inside of a café. I actually forgot my gig stick and therefore my newest photos will have to wait. I've been snapping photos here + there …I have a whole new slew of photos to add to my "Amanda Jordyn Reading/Look @ her big hair over the cover" series. ("You buy too many books") …Plus, photos of my apartment + Alton.
Being sans internet I read alot or rather make half-ditch efforts to do so ...I'm in the midst of 10 books @ the moment (and growing), a lot of NPR listening, a lot of cassettes (yes, cassettes), seeing more friends on a more timely basis ...Not to mention attempts @ writing in an actual notebook and my continued jotting of notes throughout my day. I cook more often and every pay-day I treat myself to a trip to my favorite thrift store (hence my growing book collection).
I've missed writing ...I promise it'll get better.
Stuart Kills Bugs: A Love Story
[10AM, outside of my apartment's door, hallway ...I was running across the street for coffee before getting ready for work]
Me: [locking door]
Billy Preston Exterminator: [down the hallway, spray tank in hand] "I'm in love!"
Me: "Good morning!"
BPE: "I'm in love, I'm in love! I ...am ...in ....LOVE!"
Me: " ...Congrats! ...??"
BPE: "Yeah, but you haven't asked me with who?"
Me: " ...Who?"
BPE: [points @ me] "You!"
Me: "Aww"
BPE: "I'm in love, I'm in loooove! Mmm mmm mmm, damn!"
Me: [walking towards elevator] "I can't handle all this love before my coffee! Have a great day!"
BPE: "Ooo, I will now. My great day started the moment I saw you!"
Me: [elevator!]
[10 mins. later, returning w/ coffee in hand ...Meredith (front desk) and BPE, let me in)
BPE: "Look at her! I love that girl! But break my heart, she only got one cup of coffee!"
Meredith: [laughing/eye rolling]
_______________
By the way, my Billy Preston Exterminator's real name is [drumroll]: STUART!
Org. Post: Thursday, June 21, 2007
The World Is Full Of Quacks: I'm Moving
For those of you who don't know ...I'm moving. No, no not from Chicago ...A new apartment.
I fear the time has come for me to part ways with the address I've had for the past 5 yrs. That's right, the reigning (bum-appointed) "Princess of Granville," is stepping down.
For the past week or so I've been meaning to write a lovely, heartfelt and dare I say awe-inspiring (cue "Chariots of Fire") farewell piece ...Something to signify the end of this chapter in my life and the beginning of the next. I thought of when I first moved here ...My first shoebox studio ("You mean to tell me that the kitchen is in the wall!?") or when I moved up a few floors to my first 1 bedroom ("Wait, I have a kitchen!?"). The additions along the way (Lola had to move over for Primo who had to move over for Princess Milo ...And how unbeknownst to them they will all be moving over again for Alton Brown) ...The people, the sounds, the days when I could tell the time according to the streetlights, the smell of coffee wafting in from the coffee shop across the street. My corner store (Buying something for $7? "That will be seven hundred") , my Winnie (checkout lady @ the grocery), my CTA Don Juan, my Conchita @ the Currency Exchange, my Meredith @ the front desk (who turned pale and welled up with tears when I finally broke it to her I was leaving), my Billy Preston Exterminator aka Stuart (who broke up with me when he found out I was moving ...I think he was just hiding his pain), my Regina @ CVS ...All of the characters that played a role in my life for the past 5 yrs.
I wanted to write something to signify that this era is closing ...But then a duck came into my life and such cepia-washed memories were sent to the scrappings.
A duck?! What!?
Let me tell you a little something about "departure" letters ...I've never seen one but from what I gather they are generally (or rather allegedly) given to tenants who are moving out. I hear that they are three pages long and chock-full of useful information like: We're going to show your apartment to prospective renters, your apartment will be replastered before you move, you must vacate the premises by Noon on June 30th.
Since I never recieved such a letter, I was completely unaware of the above ...So please take a moment to imagine my shock when I found out that:
A. My apartment had been showed (or as it was put "Your cats showed very well")
B. My apartment has already been rented
C. That the "plaster guys" are coming to replaster tomorrow (I believe it went something like this: "You mean all of my stuff will be covered with plaster?" Reply? "Yes")
D. That I indeed must be moved out by Noon -next Saturday.
Needless to say I wasn't all that happy.
Earlier today, shortly before leaving for work, I opted to meet with the operations manager of my building and ask if we could possibly reschedule this replastering business closer to my actual move-out day. Surprisingly that was ok ...I then pressed about this supposed "departure" letter and somehow/someway the person who was in charge of sending me such notification was completely clueless that I was even moving out. Which I take as a safe assumption that I'm not going crazy (I rifled through every scrap of paper I have in an attempt to find such a letter ...I found nothing) and that I indeed never received such.
That's when my operations manager reached behind his desk and handed me a duck ...I'm serious. A yellow plush duck.
Operations Manager: "Here you can have the duck as an apology for the whole letter mix up"
Me: "Thanks?"
I then took said duck in the palm of my hand and exited the office with a puzzled look and my mouth slightly agape ...I stepped into the elevator towards my floor, the whole walking up the hallway is a bit of a blur but somehow I found myself sitting @ my desk, starring @ this duck ...And thinking: A duck, I live here for 5 yrs. and I get a duck. You come into my apartment without notifying me of your comings or goings with my cats, with my stuff ...You bring strangers into my apartment who probably were petting my cats and looking at my stuff ...You nonchalantly tell me that the "plasters guys" will be coming over regardless if I am home or not ...You tell me that I must be moved out of my apartment by Noon on the 30th -the very day that the woman who lives in my new apartment is moving out and that the only freight elevator time slot open is 8AM ...You go against a handful of renters' rights and then ...THEN ...You hand me a duck.
I honestly couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
So goodbye Granville, goodbye building ...I'm taking Mr. Quack and I'm leaving ...And if by chance the name of said building every comes up in conversation or I overhear someone wondering "Oo I was thinking of calling up [insert my building's name] for a showing," I will casually say: "Let me tell you about my duck ... "
Org. Post: Monday, July 30, 2007
Release Your Frown: Have You Seen Me Lately?
Greetings!
Gee, it's been awhile ...You look great! Did you lose some weight? Is that a new fedora?
Me? Oo, I'm good ...Doing a-ok. I'm a bit pressed for time but I thought I'd type a quick update. I'm such a lapsed-blogger. I fully intend on updating more often and more along the lines of my former entries ...But time, Oo time, I'm pressed.
Apartment? Love it!
My move? Please place finger to lips (sideways), move up and down.
Alton? (new cat) He's great ...Big webbed bunny feet and I think he's part platypus (I'm awaiting test results).
I hope to post photos soon. Ooo the stories I've collected over the past month.
Until then ...
Org. Post: Friday, August 31, 2007
A Soft Semi-Return
[Open with present-day]
I wrote the following, last night (Thursday) …In hopes of posting today @ a nearby coffee shop (Oo wireless, you had me @ free). So here I am @ that nearby coffee shop. There's a somewhat medieval sign next to my head that reads "Stone Soup," hmm …I'm not really sure what to think of that but then again such things are probably best without much thought. Which brings me to what I originally wrote, last night -Ha! Take that self! …I started out explaining my move, 2 mths ago …But now in the light of day, coffee coursing throughout my veins …I've decided to switch things up a bit and end with the torrid tale that has become known as my move. I figured this would work best for those who might find themselves thinking "I thought she was done telling this story …". So instead, I'll flip things around and start w/ the end and end with the beginning. Ready?
[Thursday night]
Well, lookie me -I'm on your screen! Hi. It's me, again. What's it been …2 mths? I came back as soon as I could. I apologize for such blatant tardiness.
I'm actually typing this late Thursday night -A few minutes shy of Friday. After I caught myself contemplating such things as just how many threads make up my kitchen rug and/or the process of water purification through osmosis (the diffusion of a solvent through a semipermeable membrane from a dilute to a more concentrated solution. Thanks Webster). Plus, I thought it best that I save my Dictionary of Mathematic Terms for a later (rainier) day …I thought I'd check out if MS Word still holds that certain kind of charm that used to amuse me so.
Ah, the begrudgingly tedious chore that is updating …Take no offense, it's not you …I've been living with such an update looming about my brain for 2 mths now …Where to begin. Those of you who have been in contact with me over the past couple of months (which I affectionately refer to as "shit storm" or the appended "It was the worst of times …It was the best of times …For optimism's sake, the latter) feel free to take a trip down memory lane with me …For those who I've lost contact with along the way, you look taller, you look thinner -Oo who am I kidding, you're fabulous and I hope you enjoy. (Did I mention it's almost Midnight?)
[Cut to the original end]
Things have been good. Busy, hectic, a downplay of stress but good nonetheless. I'm in love with my apartment and if it wasn't for all the black + blue, I'd still be pinching myself every morning since my move @ the thought that this is actually my apartment. I get to wake up here everyday …It's the apartment I wished I had moved into 5 yrs ago but that I can in turn can now appreciate to the fullest having lived elsewhere.
Aside from the various new sights, sounds and surroundings in my life …There's also been a new addition to my feline population. A week after my move, Alton Brown (the cat) came home …With his alien-good looks, bunny-sized feet and complete lack of coordination …Alton has become one of the brood and has aided in my ongoing fear of becoming a cat lady …You know the type. Trust me, I'm fighting it tooth and nail …Alton's the limit, my cut off point. I like him, he's sort of in love with me -It works. In my defense, with Lola's anti-social personality, I really only have three cats. Then again, with Primo's incessant need for attention and validation, he's like having 2 cats …So maybe I really have 5 cats -Crap.
I made full-time @ work, finally and now with my commute literally 1 minute away and the added bonus of having lunch @ home …It's working out alright. Though what job is without an amount of stress? No really, I'm asking …A mime, perhaps? That person who turns the crank @ a bingo parlor? Vanna White? (Yes, I'm reaching).
I'll be copy/pasting this later on this morning/afternoon from a nearby coffee shop that offers free wireless …Much like the local library but with coffee. You see my point? (Coffee).
My birthday is this Saturday ..In turn, my Father surprised me with a laptop. It really was a surprise given that my Father and I speak 3x a year and we haven't seen each other in 2. I'm beyond thankful and this document has been keeping me company as I upload my complete iTunes library off of my back-up cds …Tedious, yes.
This will be my first actual saved document on my yet unnamed laptop (Actually, I think I inadvertently named it Amanda Jordyn's Computer …Ah, the vanity).
In a few months time I'm hoping to have internet within my apartment …So until then, I'll be hopping on the caffeinated free wireless bandwagon …A craze that has fortunately hit my neighborhood full fledged.
I'm on back-up disc 28 out 30 and I only backed up to the T section …Which means the rest I'll have to pull off of my old computer (which is another story within itself) with my gig stick …Yes, gig stick. Try saying that casually.
Maybe I'll stop after 28, tonight …And reread this with coffee @ hand, come morning …And completely throw it to scrap and rewrite something more up-tempo and full of pep.
[Cut to the original beginning]
My move …The best way to describe my move on July 1st would be if you placed your finger to your lips (go ahead) and in a fast-paced motion moved said finger up + down. Nuts. Then again, does moving spare anyone? A quick rundown (because Lord knows I've had to tell this story countless of times) …My dear friends Lisa + Paul enlisted themselves to help me move (In my defense, I had helped them with their own move back in April) …I spent the eve of my move sorting through nearly 5 yrs of life, pulling a one nighter as I slowly debated the perks of stealing a shopping cart and wandering aimlessly throughout the downtown area, asking strangers if they know the alternative name for a one humped camel? (Answer: dromedary …you're welcome). Morning soon arrived, Lisa + I met up @ the train stop and later a bus towards the UHAUL garage …Patting one another on the back as we sipped our coffee, so on top of things …Sun streaming across our beaming faces, time on our side (this is the good part of the story, let me enjoy it). We picked up our UHAUL, which we affectionately christened "Peppy" and we were on our way. We stoped by my new apartment, met up with the former tenant as she bid her own farewell, picked up my new set of keys and then stopped off to pick up Lisa's husband Paul …Soon we were @ my old apartment ("Ground Zero," if you will) …I ran upstairs (by way of elevator) and started sorting just how to go about all of this. A handful of minutes later, Lisa came walking up the hallway …Face reddening, eyes slightly glassy:
Me: "What's wrong, sweet pea?"
Lisa: "The ..truck won't start"
Me: "Oh! Well that's ok!"
(Later on, Lisa would admit to me that she wasn't sure I heard her correctly seeing as I took such news a bit too well. The truth is, it was within that moment that I "went away" and pure adrenaline is to blame for the rest of the day …I just kept thinking "Hey, it's not rainy! Do you know the alternative name for a one humped camel?").
My former building ("The building of which we will not speak of …ever …again) works on an elevator-time rental and my minutes were ticking away. I continued to pack, while Lisa haggled with the UHAUL customer service. They couldn't rent us a new truck so instead they got the brainiac scheme to pack the broken down "Peppy" and then they'd had a tow truck to tow it to my new apartment. Tick-tock, we were growing desperate. Even more so by the group of maintence men that were lined up outside of my (opened) apartment door, awaiting my vacation to start revamping the place. There was the carpet guy, who had himself a seat across the hall …Watching me furiously running about, throwing things into boxes, into bags ..sipping his coffee and offering priceless advice, such as:
Carpet Guy: "You should have moved the cats first …"
Me: "I'm a vet assistant, sir"
Carpet Guy: "Is that so?
Me: "That is so …sir"
A slew of hijinks ensued:
-Did I mention that my building manager wanted me out by Noon? I had the elevator from 10AM-Noon. Though by law I until Midnight to move out. The law meant very little to these people and I was determined to get out. The UHAUL breakdown threw a wrench into our plans and well, that meant very little to these people too. (Again, I'm refering to the guy who gave me that stuffed duck …Remember that? Yeah, that kooky guy. A real chuckle.
-Duck-Man found his way in the midst of my nightmare and said:
Duck-Man: "Amanda, your elevator time is almost up and well …those stairs are going to be hard."
Me: "Ah yea, I'm getting out."
-At one point the building stopped the elevator with Paul still in it …To which Lisa had to rundown to the front desk and demand they turn it back on.
-Every time I left my place to move things down to the truck, I was convinced that the maintence vultures outside of my door were going to go in. My three cats were still in the apartment -horrified.
-Danger Mike finally showed up and proved to be not only a bonus vehicle and some much needed comic relief but an overall kick in the rear that we all needed.
Hours later, we finally cleared out my apartment …I stopped by Duck-Man's office to drop off my old set of keys and sign out my lease. I stepped into his office and immediately noticed something quite familiar. I sat down across from his desk in a chair that my ex and I had thrown out well over a year ago. Lovely. I gave him the keys and signed my name on the dotted line.
Duck-Man: "Amanda, see that jar of candy over there …on the bookshelf? That's for you! (complete with pointing @ me).
I was a bit numb @ this point so I grabbed the candy and walked out of a building I had lived in for nearly 5 yrs., my first in Chicago. Needless to say, I wasn't in much of a sentimental mood.
Paul + Danger Mike awaited the tow truck to show up. Lisa + I packed up my cats a few odds n ends that would fit in her hatchback and headed off to my new place. We park out front and start getting things around. Lola was near comatose. She really had me worried …She was actually handable which immediately gave cause for alarm. Pupils dilated, drooling on herself and refusing to unfold from a somewhat fetal position. Primo was ok, panting but ok. Princess Milo didn't really realized we moved until @ least the beginning of August.
I reached into my bag and felt for my keys. I'll save any suspense and just tell you that my new keys weren't there. In fact, they weren't anywhere and to this day have yet to show themselves. Panic: Phase II soon followed. Bags were rifled through, calls were made, steps were retraced. Nothing. I've never truly lost my keys, we were always close and on decent terms …so image my shock. I called my building manager (who does not live on-site ) and he promised keys the following Monday (I moved on a Saturday) and that he could have someone let me into the main doors but I'd have to keep everything unlocked until Monday …And Oo yes, each key (3 in total, including the mail key) would cost me almost $100. Great.
We started moving things in …A couple of sweaty hours later (and not in any sexy and/or refreshed way), I was in my new apartment. Oo, almost forgot, my new place is without AC and mid-move I busted a couple of blades off of my ceiling fan, rendering it useless (a Home Depot trip the next day would fix this problem) …But I was in. I thanked Danger Mike + he was off. Starving, Paul, Lisa + I were debating where to eat. We thought about Thai but then Lisa pointed out:
Lisa: "Wait, let's go to the Chinese place …They have wine."
Good point. Chinese it was …and due to the day's events one of the best meals I've ever had.
Within a few days time (and due to my nature) I was unpacked …And that's where the story should start. But …I should mention Panic: Phase III. The next night, intent on washing everything I own, I was running downstairs to the basement laundry room @ 2AM to switch a load of wash into the dryer …I heard the click of my apartment door behind me. Locked. No keys. I had had enough sense and forethought to slip my cellphone into my pocket …With trembling hands I dialed Dave and unfortunately woke him up. A trip from Dave and a locksmith later, I was back in my apartment by 330AM.
And to think there are screenwriters galore throughout L.A. and Tim Allen's wavering career, both of which could benefit from such a tale.
So that's that. Now you know and we're on the same page. Excuse me for a moment, I've forgotten my mantra.
Ah ok. And I'm back.
[Cut to present-day]
So there you have it. Sure, I'm a bit rusty …Not to mention I miss the days where I could smoke inside of a café. I actually forgot my gig stick and therefore my newest photos will have to wait. I've been snapping photos here + there …I have a whole new slew of photos to add to my "Amanda Jordyn Reading/Look @ her big hair over the cover" series. ("You buy too many books") …Plus, photos of my apartment + Alton.
Being sans internet I read alot or rather make half-ditch efforts to do so ...I'm in the midst of 10 books @ the moment (and growing), a lot of NPR listening, a lot of cassettes (yes, cassettes), seeing more friends on a more timely basis ...Not to mention attempts @ writing in an actual notebook and my continued jotting of notes throughout my day. I cook more often and every pay-day I treat myself to a trip to my favorite thrift store (hence my growing book collection).
I've missed writing ...I promise it'll get better.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
A Penny Earned, Is A Penny Overcharged: When I Say "Fun," You Say "Math!"
This evening, post-work, I had to go to the grocery store for litter and cat food (It's in my cats' contracts, hence "had").
_____
Sidenote: Whenever you use your "value" card, your name prints on your receipt. Now my local Dominicks, in an effort to raise the bar in customer service, addresses you by your name as they hand you your change. Example:
Cashier: "Thank you very much ...Ms. Phillips ...er, Phelps ...You just saved $1.63! Have a great day, Ms. Phillips!"
_____
As I pushed my wheely-cart out of the check-out lane ($1.63 saved in tow), I overheard a woman at a nearby lane.
Woman: (to cashier) "Um, yeah -Excuse me? Ah, yeah ...You overcharged me 4 cents on an item!"
Let's stop and think about this for a moment ..."overcharged" ... "4 cents" ...Hmm. Memorial Day-eve, grocery store that is closing (early) within 5 minutes and this woman has been "overcharged" and took the time to compute "4 cents".
This moment has stuck with me throughout my evening (in my defense, I've been doing laundry which lends itself to such thoughts) ...I haven't been able to shake it for two reasons:
1. The fact that the guy in front of me, attempting to purchase what could be argued as the bare necessities (orange juice, milk, Safeway-brand cereal, bread, sliced cheese and I think I saw some bananas thrown in the mix) was turned away because his Link card wouldn't go through, after multiple tries. While the man behind me huffed and puffed at the delay, I took a nonchalant stance, polite smile and caught up on my tabloid headlines (Kelly Ripa is going to make her marriage work and apparently Tammy Fay has a lot to say on her deathbed). I would have faked a charlie horse if it would have eased any of the embarrassment the man in front of me was obviously feeling, as he apologetically left the lane.
2. Four pennies, 4 cents. Just what were this woman's intentions with what could arguably be four tarnished pieces of obsolete currency? And maybe more importantly, what on Earth can you buy nowadays for 4 cents?
After leafing through Dominicks' latest Sunday supplement, calculator at hand, I came up with a semi-accurate/quasi-mathematical list of items this woman could have purchased with her 4 cents:
-1/2 of 1 California sweet cherry
-1/16 of a pork spare rib
-The crumbs at the bottom of 1 bag of Lay's Classic potato chips (Lay's latest slogan is "100% joy," 4 cents barely teeters on 1% of joy)
-1 thimble's worth of Corona beer
-What I could only compute as a pinhead of Lucerne colby jack cheese (which is only a step above government cheese)
-The misplaced ugly stem of 1 Claussen pickle
-2 kidney beans (minus icky canning goo ...But only through Sunday, when the sale ends and then it's only icky canning goo)
-The butt end or a thumb nail's equivalent of 1 Ballpark frank
-The skin of 1 Vidalia onion
-Less than 1/64 of 1lb. of rainbow trout (maybe a fin or if the fish monger was in a charitable mood, 1/2 a tail fin)
-1/2 of 1 peanut, unsalted
-According to my calculator: "She's not getting any swordfish"
I took it a step further and computed:
-15 seconds worth of 1 minute of long distance, which equals the "Hel" of "Hello"
-1/2 minute as a Dominicks employee (according to hourly wage)
Overall, she could never afford my personal fee for the amount of think-space this mere moment has cost me over the course of this evening ...And I'm sure you have your own fee ...I mean, you read this, didn't you?
_____
Sidenote/Self-Indulgent Promotion: My first piece/review for Literago (Chicago's own literary news/info go-to spot) has been posted ...Please feel free to give it a look (or two) and while you're at it, browse the rest of Literago's offerings. A special thanks to Gretchen and Eugenia.
_____
Sidenote: Whenever you use your "value" card, your name prints on your receipt. Now my local Dominicks, in an effort to raise the bar in customer service, addresses you by your name as they hand you your change. Example:
Cashier: "Thank you very much ...Ms. Phillips ...er, Phelps ...You just saved $1.63! Have a great day, Ms. Phillips!"
_____
As I pushed my wheely-cart out of the check-out lane ($1.63 saved in tow), I overheard a woman at a nearby lane.
Woman: (to cashier) "Um, yeah -Excuse me? Ah, yeah ...You overcharged me 4 cents on an item!"
Let's stop and think about this for a moment ..."overcharged" ... "4 cents" ...Hmm. Memorial Day-eve, grocery store that is closing (early) within 5 minutes and this woman has been "overcharged" and took the time to compute "4 cents".
This moment has stuck with me throughout my evening (in my defense, I've been doing laundry which lends itself to such thoughts) ...I haven't been able to shake it for two reasons:
1. The fact that the guy in front of me, attempting to purchase what could be argued as the bare necessities (orange juice, milk, Safeway-brand cereal, bread, sliced cheese and I think I saw some bananas thrown in the mix) was turned away because his Link card wouldn't go through, after multiple tries. While the man behind me huffed and puffed at the delay, I took a nonchalant stance, polite smile and caught up on my tabloid headlines (Kelly Ripa is going to make her marriage work and apparently Tammy Fay has a lot to say on her deathbed). I would have faked a charlie horse if it would have eased any of the embarrassment the man in front of me was obviously feeling, as he apologetically left the lane.
2. Four pennies, 4 cents. Just what were this woman's intentions with what could arguably be four tarnished pieces of obsolete currency? And maybe more importantly, what on Earth can you buy nowadays for 4 cents?
After leafing through Dominicks' latest Sunday supplement, calculator at hand, I came up with a semi-accurate/quasi-mathematical list of items this woman could have purchased with her 4 cents:
-1/2 of 1 California sweet cherry
-1/16 of a pork spare rib
-The crumbs at the bottom of 1 bag of Lay's Classic potato chips (Lay's latest slogan is "100% joy," 4 cents barely teeters on 1% of joy)
-1 thimble's worth of Corona beer
-What I could only compute as a pinhead of Lucerne colby jack cheese (which is only a step above government cheese)
-The misplaced ugly stem of 1 Claussen pickle
-2 kidney beans (minus icky canning goo ...But only through Sunday, when the sale ends and then it's only icky canning goo)
-The butt end or a thumb nail's equivalent of 1 Ballpark frank
-The skin of 1 Vidalia onion
-Less than 1/64 of 1lb. of rainbow trout (maybe a fin or if the fish monger was in a charitable mood, 1/2 a tail fin)
-1/2 of 1 peanut, unsalted
-According to my calculator: "She's not getting any swordfish"
I took it a step further and computed:
-15 seconds worth of 1 minute of long distance, which equals the "Hel" of "Hello"
-1/2 minute as a Dominicks employee (according to hourly wage)
Overall, she could never afford my personal fee for the amount of think-space this mere moment has cost me over the course of this evening ...And I'm sure you have your own fee ...I mean, you read this, didn't you?
_____
Sidenote/Self-Indulgent Promotion: My first piece/review for Literago (Chicago's own literary news/info go-to spot) has been posted ...Please feel free to give it a look (or two) and while you're at it, browse the rest of Literago's offerings. A special thanks to Gretchen and Eugenia.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before [Working Title: There's Shit In My Eggs]
Redline, southbound, 1030AM, en route to work:
[A couple seated facing the train's doorway, a few black bags amongst them. Guy dressed in jeans, faded black leather jacket, a haphazardly placed ball cap. Woman hair completely tucked up a hankerchief, tied @ the front. Both talking @ a volume that won out over the sound of the train. I take a nearby seat].
Guy: "Gimme some fuckin' pancakes, some motherfuckin' syrup ..."
Woman: "Powdered sugar! Some fuckin' powder sugar!"
Guy: "Some motherfuckin' pancakes with syrup and some motherfuckin' powdered sugar!"
Woman: "I'd do that for you! I put some powdered sugar on that shit!"
Guy: "Yeah, put some damn syrup, some fuckin' whipped motherfuckin' cream, powdered sugar! Gimme some fuckin' pancakes, bitch!"
Woman: "Strawberries!"
Guy: "Shit yeah ...Strawberries. I love anything red. I love anything red so pile on some fuckin' strawberries!"
Woman: "Fuckin' bum o'clock!"
[Mental note: ??]
Woman: "Shit eggs! I put some fuckin' syrup on your shit eggs!"
Guy: "Shit eggs! Damn right you put syrup all over that shit!"
Womam: "Shit eggs for breakfast!"
[laughter w/ the woman repeating "shit eggs" 4+ times]
Guy: "What the fuck you talkin' bout bitch!?"
Woman: "I got your bitch right here! I be a bitchy bitch ...Not Richie Rich but a bitchy bitch!"
[laughter]
Guy: "Jay-Z is a fuckin' prick"
Woman: "You a man after my own heart! This car be rockin' n' rollin'!"
Guy: [mock Jamacian accent] "Come to my island!"
Woman: "We be in Hawaii"
[woman starts to do some for of hula. I stand up, my stop is next]
Guy: "Look @ that girl ...What she wearin'? Look @ her STYLE!"
Woman: "Oo leave her alone"
Guy: "For real ...What color that coat? I want to go shoppin' with her! Get me some platform shoes!"
[laughter]
Guy: "I take her to Target!"
[I arrive @ my stop + I step off. I could hear their laughter as the train pulled away]
For the record, the coat I was wearing is orange, though recently a coworker referred to it as mango. If only it were red ...
____________
Lately, I've been thinking of all the conversations that I routinely have ...Chances are you have a few yourself. Banausos conversation at it's finest. Like those stories that fit a certain topic, though those around you change ...Moments where a story that you've told a handful of times, fits perfectly within context ...Or explanations to the usual questions "Where are you from?" or "What do you do?" ...You know the same pre-rehearsed answers, that will never change and you tell them the exact same way, each time.
I've been able to concoct a list of my most popular repeat-offender explanations that make their way into my conversations almost weekly. Such a answers are near auto-pilot by now and chances are I've probably said these exact same things to you or around you.
1. "So what do you do?," "Do you work retail?," "So are you a student?," "Do you work in such and such an industry?" [insert: art, design, anthropologic, music, literary, coffee, modeling, health, land surveying, extreme ironing, etc.].
Auto-pilot Answer: "I work for a non-for-profit, no-kill cat shelter ..." blah, blah, blah ...Then I mention that I got into it because I have a diabetic cat, which turns into: "He's insulin dependent, 2x daily," "Yes, injections, twice daily," "No, cats can develop diabetes ...It was a big shock when he crashed," "It keeps me busy, I like that ...If I had to work in a cubicle, I'd sceam. This job keeps me on my toes." I then add a few comments about how it's a satisfying job, I feel as though I'm doing something worthwhile, noble, that "No, I don't plan on being a vet," "Sure, I like animals," which goes into my "I'm not a crazed cat lady" disclaimer and I sum it all up with "Kittens are overrated," "I can't believe I have 3 cats, I wonder where they come from most of the time" or "I was a dog person when I first moved here." Then I try to backtrack and mention art, design, writing, certified nutritionist "but I won't tell you to get rid of your microwave!".
2. "Where'd you come from?" or "Where are you from?"
Auto-pilot Answer: "Oo well, I moved here from Michigan BUT I was born on the east coast," which is followed with a brief and longer than need be explanation: "Well, I was born in New Hampshire, spent time in Boston starting @ 3 mths. [insert surgery/birth defect story which stars the Boston's Children Hospital and hand motions to my upper lip. Person: "I would never have noticed," Me: "Thank you, I usually tell those who do notice I was attacked by a dog" (cue the awkward laughter)]. I mention living for 2 yrs. in Houston, then Michigan and that I moved to Chicago 5 yrs. ago "on my birthday, with a kitten I had adopted a week before. I had never seen my apartment until the day I moved in".
3. "Is that all your real hair?"
Auto-pilot Answer: "Ah yes, it's my real hair," "Yes, it's all mine," "Yeah, I have a lot of hair," and/or "I used to have short hair but I've been growing it out for about 3 yrs. now. That's what you do when you've had your hair short for quite some time. You cut it for a change and then you grow it out for a change. Those the brokes." And the omnipresent: Person: "Did you do something different with your hair?," Me: "I washed it! [har har]".
4. "Do you need room for cream/sugar?" or "You drink your coffee black?"
Auto-pilot answer: "No thank you, just black ...I'm one of THOSE people" [I'm not even really sure what I mean by that when I say it ...It could be a pre-caffeinated attempt @ chit-chattin' charm]. "I'm a coffee purist," or I break into some long-winded mini-rant about how real coffee drinkers just drink black, making mention of a repeated "just black" run-in @ Dunkin Donuts (Yeah, that story ...You all know it) and I probably sprinkle in a "I'm a coffee snob," here or there.
5. "So you're a vegan?" or "You don't eat any meat?"
Auto-pilot Answer: "Yes but don't worry, I don't have any videos for you to watch or pamphlets for you to read," which is followed by "It's really just for myself, you can eat meat in front of me I won't utter the word 'murder," I just really don't have the taste for meat," and in some half-ditch effort to seem relatable "I was raised in a steak eating family," as though to reassure you that I'm not really from the planet Crouton. Sometimes people will inquire what I do eat and then I spout (not sprout) off about my love for falafel and how I love fiber. Actually, my love for fiber could be a sub-auto-pilot answer to this question -Which ends with "Orange Metamucil tastes like flat orange soda -I love it!" [Though, I think my new response will be "I love anything red!]
6. "So what kind of music do you like?," "What do you listen to?" or "What kind of music are you into?"
Auto-pilot Answer: [blank stare]
[A couple seated facing the train's doorway, a few black bags amongst them. Guy dressed in jeans, faded black leather jacket, a haphazardly placed ball cap. Woman hair completely tucked up a hankerchief, tied @ the front. Both talking @ a volume that won out over the sound of the train. I take a nearby seat].
Guy: "Gimme some fuckin' pancakes, some motherfuckin' syrup ..."
Woman: "Powdered sugar! Some fuckin' powder sugar!"
Guy: "Some motherfuckin' pancakes with syrup and some motherfuckin' powdered sugar!"
Woman: "I'd do that for you! I put some powdered sugar on that shit!"
Guy: "Yeah, put some damn syrup, some fuckin' whipped motherfuckin' cream, powdered sugar! Gimme some fuckin' pancakes, bitch!"
Woman: "Strawberries!"
Guy: "Shit yeah ...Strawberries. I love anything red. I love anything red so pile on some fuckin' strawberries!"
Woman: "Fuckin' bum o'clock!"
[Mental note: ??]
Woman: "Shit eggs! I put some fuckin' syrup on your shit eggs!"
Guy: "Shit eggs! Damn right you put syrup all over that shit!"
Womam: "Shit eggs for breakfast!"
[laughter w/ the woman repeating "shit eggs" 4+ times]
Guy: "What the fuck you talkin' bout bitch!?"
Woman: "I got your bitch right here! I be a bitchy bitch ...Not Richie Rich but a bitchy bitch!"
[laughter]
Guy: "Jay-Z is a fuckin' prick"
Woman: "You a man after my own heart! This car be rockin' n' rollin'!"
Guy: [mock Jamacian accent] "Come to my island!"
Woman: "We be in Hawaii"
[woman starts to do some for of hula. I stand up, my stop is next]
Guy: "Look @ that girl ...What she wearin'? Look @ her STYLE!"
Woman: "Oo leave her alone"
Guy: "For real ...What color that coat? I want to go shoppin' with her! Get me some platform shoes!"
[laughter]
Guy: "I take her to Target!"
[I arrive @ my stop + I step off. I could hear their laughter as the train pulled away]
For the record, the coat I was wearing is orange, though recently a coworker referred to it as mango. If only it were red ...
____________
Lately, I've been thinking of all the conversations that I routinely have ...Chances are you have a few yourself. Banausos conversation at it's finest. Like those stories that fit a certain topic, though those around you change ...Moments where a story that you've told a handful of times, fits perfectly within context ...Or explanations to the usual questions "Where are you from?" or "What do you do?" ...You know the same pre-rehearsed answers, that will never change and you tell them the exact same way, each time.
I've been able to concoct a list of my most popular repeat-offender explanations that make their way into my conversations almost weekly. Such a answers are near auto-pilot by now and chances are I've probably said these exact same things to you or around you.
1. "So what do you do?," "Do you work retail?," "So are you a student?," "Do you work in such and such an industry?" [insert: art, design, anthropologic, music, literary, coffee, modeling, health, land surveying, extreme ironing, etc.].
Auto-pilot Answer: "I work for a non-for-profit, no-kill cat shelter ..." blah, blah, blah ...Then I mention that I got into it because I have a diabetic cat, which turns into: "He's insulin dependent, 2x daily," "Yes, injections, twice daily," "No, cats can develop diabetes ...It was a big shock when he crashed," "It keeps me busy, I like that ...If I had to work in a cubicle, I'd sceam. This job keeps me on my toes." I then add a few comments about how it's a satisfying job, I feel as though I'm doing something worthwhile, noble, that "No, I don't plan on being a vet," "Sure, I like animals," which goes into my "I'm not a crazed cat lady" disclaimer and I sum it all up with "Kittens are overrated," "I can't believe I have 3 cats, I wonder where they come from most of the time" or "I was a dog person when I first moved here." Then I try to backtrack and mention art, design, writing, certified nutritionist "but I won't tell you to get rid of your microwave!".
2. "Where'd you come from?" or "Where are you from?"
Auto-pilot Answer: "Oo well, I moved here from Michigan BUT I was born on the east coast," which is followed with a brief and longer than need be explanation: "Well, I was born in New Hampshire, spent time in Boston starting @ 3 mths. [insert surgery/birth defect story which stars the Boston's Children Hospital and hand motions to my upper lip. Person: "I would never have noticed," Me: "Thank you, I usually tell those who do notice I was attacked by a dog" (cue the awkward laughter)]. I mention living for 2 yrs. in Houston, then Michigan and that I moved to Chicago 5 yrs. ago "on my birthday, with a kitten I had adopted a week before. I had never seen my apartment until the day I moved in".
3. "Is that all your real hair?"
Auto-pilot Answer: "Ah yes, it's my real hair," "Yes, it's all mine," "Yeah, I have a lot of hair," and/or "I used to have short hair but I've been growing it out for about 3 yrs. now. That's what you do when you've had your hair short for quite some time. You cut it for a change and then you grow it out for a change. Those the brokes." And the omnipresent: Person: "Did you do something different with your hair?," Me: "I washed it! [har har]".
4. "Do you need room for cream/sugar?" or "You drink your coffee black?"
Auto-pilot answer: "No thank you, just black ...I'm one of THOSE people" [I'm not even really sure what I mean by that when I say it ...It could be a pre-caffeinated attempt @ chit-chattin' charm]. "I'm a coffee purist," or I break into some long-winded mini-rant about how real coffee drinkers just drink black, making mention of a repeated "just black" run-in @ Dunkin Donuts (Yeah, that story ...You all know it) and I probably sprinkle in a "I'm a coffee snob," here or there.
5. "So you're a vegan?" or "You don't eat any meat?"
Auto-pilot Answer: "Yes but don't worry, I don't have any videos for you to watch or pamphlets for you to read," which is followed by "It's really just for myself, you can eat meat in front of me I won't utter the word 'murder," I just really don't have the taste for meat," and in some half-ditch effort to seem relatable "I was raised in a steak eating family," as though to reassure you that I'm not really from the planet Crouton. Sometimes people will inquire what I do eat and then I spout (not sprout) off about my love for falafel and how I love fiber. Actually, my love for fiber could be a sub-auto-pilot answer to this question -Which ends with "Orange Metamucil tastes like flat orange soda -I love it!" [Though, I think my new response will be "I love anything red!]
6. "So what kind of music do you like?," "What do you listen to?" or "What kind of music are you into?"
Auto-pilot Answer: [blank stare]
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The Dawning of the Ridiculous: Last Night I Didn't Get To Sleep Enough
This could be completely ridiculous or completely spot on ...Truth is, I'm tired. I have a day job and in turn my feet hurt (and I'm left with the feeling of accomplishment of a job well done ...Which I add only as an attempt to not seem like some ungrateful day-jobber). I've spent my day sounding like a Lorca poem:
"At 6:30, in the morning ...I awoke.
I woke up and it was 6:30, in the morning.
It was morning, 6:30, I woke up.
I've been awake since the time I woke up ...6:30 ...in the morning"
And that is why I'm writing ...Not about work, mind you but something of equal importance (gracious bonus points: though it's hard to top the feeling of accomplishment I feel when it comes to a job well done) ...No, no.
The 5th Dimension. You know, "Age of Aquarius," "Good Morning Starshine" and of course the uplifting little ditty "One Less Bell To Answer". Still with me? Good (gracious bonus points: thanks).
I live in a strict NPR-zone ...I wake up (You know, at 6:30 ...in the morning) and flip on the radio ...I boil water for coffee during Eight-Forty Eight and then sit down to my usual newsy-tidbit websites while the BBC Hour takes the air, shower before Fresh Air comes on and then it's out the door by World View or Talk of the Nation.
However, in between it's another story ...Especially at work, for whatever reason regardles of reception I just can't concentrate on NPR while working ...So, in turn, 94.7 Oldies it is!
Anyone who knows me (beyond my defused pale mirrored complexion or my love for the color orange) knows that when I'm feeling a bit low, a touch mellow or could use an artial flutter (sans heart disease), just turn on the local oldies station. Give me Diana Ross and the Supremes, for pete'ssake let me have some Motown (preferably of the Hittsville USA-era, before Mr. Gordy let it all go Universal).
[I'll get back to the 5th Dimesion quintet that originally sparked this semi-coherent "post new blog," in a moment]
Quick sidenote: Today, on Oldies 94.7 the theme was songs w/ female names, honoring women or including the words "Mom," "Mother" and/or "Mama/Momma" ...Which sure, made sense being Mothers' Day and all ...So imagine my surprise at the near on the hour play of "Devil Woman," throughout the day.
Ok, the 5th Dimension ...Have you ever really paid any attention to their lyrics? Namely the lyrics for "(Last Night) I Didn't Get Any Sleep At All"? Ok, I've lost you but I'm determined to see this through (and I've been awake since ...6:3 -Oo nevermind). A quick run through:
"Last night I didn't get to sleep at all, no no/ I laid awake and watched as the morning light washed away the darkness of the lonely night"
So he/she can't sleep, nifty little riff on "watched" and "washed" ...But then:
"Oh, last night, I didn't get to sleep at all, no no/ The sleepin' pills I took were just a waste of time"
C'mon now. Sleepin' pills? What?
And that folks is just the sort of anti-climatic result to a lukewarm spark of amusement, left to simmer throughout the day when you wake up ...at 6:30 ...in the morning. That's all I have and now I must post this out of sheer stubborness for spending the past 30 or so minutes in the glare of my computer, rambling about some quasi-one hit wonder super group that did an awful cover of the Beatles' "Ticket To Ride" before slipping into the post-"dawn of the Aquarius" abyss.
In a grab-a-bucket-attempt to save this sinking post, I'll make a quick mention of my Mothers' Day:
I've tried to call my Mother 6+ times today to wish her a "Happy Mothers' Day" and let her know that I did indeed get her a card and it will undoubtfully be addressed, complete w/ stamp and en route to her mailbox within the next couple of days.
Ring, ring, ring ...Supposedly her answering machine is broken so I couldn't leave a heartfelt, thoughtful message ...But I will say this, I have quite the Mother. She's been my biggest fan from day one and has faught many a battles for me when I myself couldn't and I'm sure both her and her caller ID are well aware of just how grateful I am for all that she has been, all that she is and all that she continues to be.
Earlier today:
Front Desk Guy: "Today is Mothers' Day!"
Me: "Yes it is ...I'm about to call my Mother right now."
Front Desk Guy: "Your hair is long."
Me: "Yes it is."
Sidenote: Before posting, I did an album search on the Diana Ross + the Supremes collection that I am in fact listening to @ the moment of this post. I came across this:
"Diana Ross + The Supremes: #1s (Eco-Friendly Packaging)"
...Ain't no mountain high enough, Mother Earth.
"At 6:30, in the morning ...I awoke.
I woke up and it was 6:30, in the morning.
It was morning, 6:30, I woke up.
I've been awake since the time I woke up ...6:30 ...in the morning"
And that is why I'm writing ...Not about work, mind you but something of equal importance (gracious bonus points: though it's hard to top the feeling of accomplishment I feel when it comes to a job well done) ...No, no.
The 5th Dimension. You know, "Age of Aquarius," "Good Morning Starshine" and of course the uplifting little ditty "One Less Bell To Answer". Still with me? Good (gracious bonus points: thanks).
I live in a strict NPR-zone ...I wake up (You know, at 6:30 ...in the morning) and flip on the radio ...I boil water for coffee during Eight-Forty Eight and then sit down to my usual newsy-tidbit websites while the BBC Hour takes the air, shower before Fresh Air comes on and then it's out the door by World View or Talk of the Nation.
However, in between it's another story ...Especially at work, for whatever reason regardles of reception I just can't concentrate on NPR while working ...So, in turn, 94.7 Oldies it is!
Anyone who knows me (beyond my defused pale mirrored complexion or my love for the color orange) knows that when I'm feeling a bit low, a touch mellow or could use an artial flutter (sans heart disease), just turn on the local oldies station. Give me Diana Ross and the Supremes, for pete'ssake let me have some Motown (preferably of the Hittsville USA-era, before Mr. Gordy let it all go Universal).
[I'll get back to the 5th Dimesion quintet that originally sparked this semi-coherent "post new blog," in a moment]
Quick sidenote: Today, on Oldies 94.7 the theme was songs w/ female names, honoring women or including the words "Mom," "Mother" and/or "Mama/Momma" ...Which sure, made sense being Mothers' Day and all ...So imagine my surprise at the near on the hour play of "Devil Woman," throughout the day.
Ok, the 5th Dimension ...Have you ever really paid any attention to their lyrics? Namely the lyrics for "(Last Night) I Didn't Get Any Sleep At All"? Ok, I've lost you but I'm determined to see this through (and I've been awake since ...6:3 -Oo nevermind). A quick run through:
"Last night I didn't get to sleep at all, no no/ I laid awake and watched as the morning light washed away the darkness of the lonely night"
So he/she can't sleep, nifty little riff on "watched" and "washed" ...But then:
"Oh, last night, I didn't get to sleep at all, no no/ The sleepin' pills I took were just a waste of time"
C'mon now. Sleepin' pills? What?
And that folks is just the sort of anti-climatic result to a lukewarm spark of amusement, left to simmer throughout the day when you wake up ...at 6:30 ...in the morning. That's all I have and now I must post this out of sheer stubborness for spending the past 30 or so minutes in the glare of my computer, rambling about some quasi-one hit wonder super group that did an awful cover of the Beatles' "Ticket To Ride" before slipping into the post-"dawn of the Aquarius" abyss.
In a grab-a-bucket-attempt to save this sinking post, I'll make a quick mention of my Mothers' Day:
I've tried to call my Mother 6+ times today to wish her a "Happy Mothers' Day" and let her know that I did indeed get her a card and it will undoubtfully be addressed, complete w/ stamp and en route to her mailbox within the next couple of days.
Ring, ring, ring ...Supposedly her answering machine is broken so I couldn't leave a heartfelt, thoughtful message ...But I will say this, I have quite the Mother. She's been my biggest fan from day one and has faught many a battles for me when I myself couldn't and I'm sure both her and her caller ID are well aware of just how grateful I am for all that she has been, all that she is and all that she continues to be.
Earlier today:
Front Desk Guy: "Today is Mothers' Day!"
Me: "Yes it is ...I'm about to call my Mother right now."
Front Desk Guy: "Your hair is long."
Me: "Yes it is."
Sidenote: Before posting, I did an album search on the Diana Ross + the Supremes collection that I am in fact listening to @ the moment of this post. I came across this:
"Diana Ross + The Supremes: #1s (Eco-Friendly Packaging)"
...Ain't no mountain high enough, Mother Earth.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
"Jordyn, You Are An Excellent Titler": Compliments As Titles
Yes, it's been a while. Two weeks, at least -Oo my!
The remnants of my seasonal sinus-cold are all but the occasional cough.
I spent a week with my vocal cords on the "Chewbacca/Bea Arthur" setting and had to overcome my longtime fear of blowing my nose in public (which goes all the way back to grade school. I was often put off by classmates who shared their congestion with the class and my voyeuristic teachers always put the box of Kleenex in the front by the pencil sharpener. Maybe my usage of "voyeuristic" is unjust but it won out over my next option: sadistic. And maybe I'm a bit bitter that I can't blame this wandering sentence on the Dayquil I'm no longer taking, hmph).
I even broke down and purchased a mini pack of tissues, popular with grandmothers, the world over. Actually, I'm half tempted to keep a mini pack of tissues in my bag (hear me out). They're the perfect prop for days when you just didn't get enough sleep, maybe you were a bit rushed on your way out the door and simply not looking your best ...Just pull out a tissue and mock a muffled cough and suddenly "Wow, that girl looks like hell," turns into "Aww, she's sick. Poor girl, I bet she looks spectacular and is the picture of health, otherwise ". I found myself doing this very exact act, if you will, while out in public. Sure, I was technically sick but I felt the need to make it more obvious to the googley-eyed public, as I awaited an inbound train. I'm giving you pearls, here. That day when you just can't be bothered to shower: mini tissues. Try it. That one's free.
What I'm trying to get at is my introduction to Throat Coat tea, from Traditional Medicinals. Amazing! Licorce root, marshmallow root, safe, calendula flower, cinnamon/orange/cherry bark, you get the picture. Probably the best thing about my week of congestion.
Ever the savvy shopper, I opted to pick up the "Throat Coat for Kids," at my local grocer. 18 bags opposed to the standard Throat Coat (minus kids) 16 bags, for half the price. The kicker? Throat Coat for Kids' spokes ...animal, Gigi the Giraffe. Each bag comes with a nifty "giraffe fun fact" and a mini-comic about the sore throat adventures of Gigi the Giraffe and her friend Tea-ger the Tiger, who as the story goes is actually the tea pusher and knows "all about special plants" and "goes to his garden to pick these special herbs for Organic Throat Coat tea."
"Tea-ger knows how to make the tea taste good too, so, just like you Gigi loves her Organic Throat Coat tea." Personally, I suspect Tea-ger's real name is something like Harold or Daryl. After an ill-fated music career, billed as Harold Rocket or Daryl Sixx, he spent some time in rehab, where he learned the fine art of gardening and more than likely befriended this Gigi the Giraffe character -who now has chronic throat issues due to her years spent free-basing glue (which stems from a longtime hatred towards horses).
[your cue] "Hey Jordyn, you're putting way too much thought into this ...Wrap it up!"
I'm getting the red light so I'll end this posting with a "giraffe fun fact," brought to you by Gigi, Tea-ger and the fine folks of Traditional Medicinals:
Inspired to find out more about giraffes? Check out: Random Giraffe Facts
The remnants of my seasonal sinus-cold are all but the occasional cough.
I spent a week with my vocal cords on the "Chewbacca/Bea Arthur" setting and had to overcome my longtime fear of blowing my nose in public (which goes all the way back to grade school. I was often put off by classmates who shared their congestion with the class and my voyeuristic teachers always put the box of Kleenex in the front by the pencil sharpener. Maybe my usage of "voyeuristic" is unjust but it won out over my next option: sadistic. And maybe I'm a bit bitter that I can't blame this wandering sentence on the Dayquil I'm no longer taking, hmph).
I even broke down and purchased a mini pack of tissues, popular with grandmothers, the world over. Actually, I'm half tempted to keep a mini pack of tissues in my bag (hear me out). They're the perfect prop for days when you just didn't get enough sleep, maybe you were a bit rushed on your way out the door and simply not looking your best ...Just pull out a tissue and mock a muffled cough and suddenly "Wow, that girl looks like hell," turns into "Aww, she's sick. Poor girl, I bet she looks spectacular and is the picture of health, otherwise ". I found myself doing this very exact act, if you will, while out in public. Sure, I was technically sick but I felt the need to make it more obvious to the googley-eyed public, as I awaited an inbound train. I'm giving you pearls, here. That day when you just can't be bothered to shower: mini tissues. Try it. That one's free.
What I'm trying to get at is my introduction to Throat Coat tea, from Traditional Medicinals. Amazing! Licorce root, marshmallow root, safe, calendula flower, cinnamon/orange/cherry bark, you get the picture. Probably the best thing about my week of congestion.
Ever the savvy shopper, I opted to pick up the "Throat Coat for Kids," at my local grocer. 18 bags opposed to the standard Throat Coat (minus kids) 16 bags, for half the price. The kicker? Throat Coat for Kids' spokes ...animal, Gigi the Giraffe. Each bag comes with a nifty "giraffe fun fact" and a mini-comic about the sore throat adventures of Gigi the Giraffe and her friend Tea-ger the Tiger, who as the story goes is actually the tea pusher and knows "all about special plants" and "goes to his garden to pick these special herbs for Organic Throat Coat tea."
"Tea-ger knows how to make the tea taste good too, so, just like you Gigi loves her Organic Throat Coat tea." Personally, I suspect Tea-ger's real name is something like Harold or Daryl. After an ill-fated music career, billed as Harold Rocket or Daryl Sixx, he spent some time in rehab, where he learned the fine art of gardening and more than likely befriended this Gigi the Giraffe character -who now has chronic throat issues due to her years spent free-basing glue (which stems from a longtime hatred towards horses).
[your cue] "Hey Jordyn, you're putting way too much thought into this ...Wrap it up!"
I'm getting the red light so I'll end this posting with a "giraffe fun fact," brought to you by Gigi, Tea-ger and the fine folks of Traditional Medicinals:
Inspired to find out more about giraffes? Check out: Random Giraffe Facts
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